At first she thought he was endeavouring to rid himself of the fleas, but after a time she came to understand that the muck had healing qualities and soothed the burning scratches made by his claws. She read beautifully because the fixed form of the poem signified nothing. “I will tell you when to stop. '—'What is it, Mint?' asked all three. She was in one of her old walking-dresses, her hair was done in an unfamiliar manner, she wore a wedding-ring, and she looked as if she had been crying. Immeasurable disgust possessed her.
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